


He Doesn't Know

by Mietta



Series: Together and Apart [1]
Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 11:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8100883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mietta/pseuds/Mietta
Summary: Post-season 3 AU, obviously Lizzington. This deals with the aftermath of Liz's kidnapping, and her decision to escape. It also sheds light on her reasons for doing what she did. Plus a good bit of angst thrown in there for good measure. Enjoy!"Only one thought pervaded her mind as she moved forward: Agnes."





	

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fully disclaimed. After not writing for a while, this all of a sudden popped up and I churned it out. It was yelling at me to be written. This is my attempt at diving into Liz and explaining why she did what she did. I love getting into her character (as usual). This isn't finished, and I will be adding more. But it stops where it does because I was out of steam, and it seemed like a good stopping place. My joy of frustrating readers at the end of chapters knows no bounds ;) Oh, and there may be some *hint hint nudge nudge* going on regarding a certain...topic ;)
> 
> *Note the name change for Red, it is intentional. She addressed him by his first name in canon, so I'm keeping it. It's a significant change and indicates a shift in the way she sees him.*

Seeing him again was like a kick in the gut.

She had been braced against a wall, gun in hand, looking around the corner as opposing gunfire rang out. The noise ceased, and she took advantage of the silence to fire off a round. It was a stand-off; the guy opposite her was across the short hall, exchanging shots with her, neither of them gaining any ground. There was nothing she could do but hope to get off a lucky shot. She was stuck. If she advanced, she was opening herself to his fire. But she couldn't stay here much longer; the two extra clips she had managed to snag burned hotly in her pocket, reminding her that she was running on limited ammo.

But that didn't matter compared to the time that was being wasted. The longer she delayed, the more time Kirk's men had to organize against her, narrowing her window of escape. She had to keep moving. Agnes's life depended on it.

Kirk was cruel, keeping her away. He acted nothing but the gentleman in her presence, offering her answers, feeding her well, giving her anything she needed; an ideal situation, if she hadn't known better. The dangling of answers in front of her was tantalizing, but she had never taken advantage of it. She let him talk, choosing silence over any conversation. If she didn't play into his game, his manipulation, he would eventually tire of her. Liz was used games and how to play them. Raymond had given her extensive practice.

The only thing she had asked of him, told him she wanted, was the one thing he wouldn't give her. Agnes.

No matter how she phrased her questions, begged him, threatened him—he refused to let her see her daughter. It was leverage over her, she knew that, but that didn't mean it wasn't cruel. To involve an innocent child in his games…it was another level of sickening. That was one thing that separated Kirk from Red: Raymond would never take advantage of a child. He did many other terrible things, but that was one line he wouldn't cross. As he often reminded her, he had a moral code, as messed up as it was. That was one thing she was always certain of.

Kirk, on the other hand, didn't seem to have any lines that he wouldn't cross. No matter who he claimed to be, she saw him merely as an obstacle to get around. Liz had to escape, get Agnes away from the mess that she had put them in. And if that meant Kirk had to die, so be it. Agnes's life was more important than any answers Kirk might give her.

So now she found herself here, blocked from advancing further and frustrated. After biding her time and timing her escape when Kirk was occupied and needed enhanced security, she had overtaken her sole guard and started running. Kirk had grown too assured that she wouldn't attempt to escape with Agnes's life in the balance, and the answers he insisted he could give her. He never restrained her after their first meeting, instead opting for house arrest in a rich suite. Everything to make her comfortable and "happy" until he could break her. He had become lax, believing that his precious daughter—which she had thought about extensively, and wasn't sure she believed—would stay put.

True to form, however, she hadn't. She was tired of his game and being holed away from Agnes and Tom. Tom was another issue, but she shoved the thought away. He could take care of himself. If he was still alive, that is. Liz had not a clue of his fate, but her priority was her daughter. He would understand and want the same thing. For all his faults, she knew that they were aligned when it came to Agnes.

But all of her work for escape would be for naught if she didn't get past this damn guard.

No shots answered her, and she ducked around the wall to see what he was doing. All she saw was the edge of his jacket, unmoving. Listening intently, she heard his short breaths as he bided his time. Trying to draw her out, expose herself. Right, because that's _exactly_ what the FBI teaches their students to do. She wouldn't fall for his trick. But biding his time also had another consequence: he was waiting for back up. That was one thing she couldn't afford. Nor could she afford the chance that they would relocate Agnes, making all of this pointless.

Closing her eyes, she took a few steadying breaths and made a decision.

Jumping around the corner, gun raised, her finger hovered over the trigger as a muted ping sounded and the guard fell in a crumpled heap. Instinct made her jump sideways, but her eyes saw that it wasn't necessary.

Even if the figure itself hadn't been familiar, she knew the sound of his gun, saw the precision with which it met its mark. Even before their eyes met, she knew who it was.

 _Raymond_.

Their gazes locked and for a few intense moments, it was just them, suspended in time, all of the outside world forgotten. Then she lowered her gun, and the spell was broken.

"Agnes," she said, and just like that, he was at her side and they were moving forward.

She had so much to say to him. Why she did what she did, her reasons for everything…but she didn't know that he would even listen. Would he want to hear her excuses? That's what they were. Truthful excuses, but excuses all the same. Liz had been aware what faking her death would do to him. Considering how he acted when she was hurt, kidnapped, in danger—really, the list went _on_ —she knew that her dying would affect him deeply. His eyes had told her what she needed to know.

He looked like he had seen a ghost. He was haunted and worn with bags under his eyes and his face hollow. The face of someone who had been grieving.

That kick in the gut throbbed and renewed its pang every time she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He was focused and silent, moving with a purpose and closed off. His usual look when he was ready to kill something. Traditional anger was beneath him; instead he became cold, deadly, and devoid of emotion. Liz wasn't sure that his anger was necessarily directed at her, though she knew she deserved it. She had hurt him. Hurt him to the point that forgiveness may not be possible. They had always been on shaky ground when it came to her welfare, but they had always agreed to disagree and meet in the middle. He did what he thought was necessary, and she simply put up with it while voicing her displeasure.

This time, though, she had made a decision that may impact their relationship to the point of no return.

Faking her death had very nearly killed her itself. With Agnes in the picture, it wasn't just herself that was perpetually in danger. If anything had convinced her of that, it had been the circumstances surrounding her birth. It was anything but normal. So young, and Agnes had already experienced the terrible evil in the world. Evil that had been brought into her life because of Raymond Reddington.

Yes, she blamed him for upturning her life and causing her hell. Over and over again she had wondered what would have happened if he hadn't turned himself in. Would she have a normal life with Tom by now? A little three-year-old girl at her side as she dropped her off at daycare and went to her FBI desk job? Maybe, in another world, that could have happened. There was a part of her that wished it had.

But Raymond had also revealed truths about her life and herself that she couldn't ignore. Tom, for one. He was the most complicated thing in this mess that was her life. What would have happened if Tom _hadn't_ been outed by him? Would they have a normal life, or would he have simply made her disappear without a trace, delivered to his employer? She still wasn't sure what twisted past she had, but she had hints and theories of her own. Things that wouldn't have come to light if Raymond hadn't walked into her life.

Then there was the fact that despite it all, she did love him. She wasn't sure _what_ type of love it was just yet, but she did know it existed. As much as she tried to push him away, she couldn't imagine her life without his presence. They weren't exactly definable, but they were them. They had both tried to establish a definition for their relationship over the years. More recently, it turned into something else entirely on the run. So much so that a moment of selfishness on her part had landed her right smack in the middle of this mess.

But that selfishness was never spoken of, and may never be.

It was that selfishness that had made her realize that she couldn't be selfish when it came to her daughter. She wanted one thing, but her daughter needed another. Agnes needed to be out of Raymond's world if she wanted any semblance of a normal life. With him around, she would always be in danger. Without him, she could live her life like any other little girl. She could have a mom, a dad, and play on the beach with her dog. It didn't matter if Liz herself would simply be going through the motions of living.

She could be happy, if she chose. Her relationship with Tom was on different ground now. At least it was more honest, in a way. They both knew who each other was. There were no more secrets, identities, or pretending. Did she trust him? No. She would never trust him the way she used to. Liz was well aware of the type of person Tom was. She didn't believe he could change entirely, though he had insisted he was trying. He could change enough that he would love and take care of Agnes, and provide for them both. Tom had told her he loved her, and she believed him when he did. With that knowledge she knew he would be a good father and husband. She could be a mother and try and make him happy. It was all she could do. She would be the one pretending, this time. But it was worth it for Agnes's happiness and well-being.

That had been enough to convince her to leave. Dying had been the only way. He had already proved that she wasn't able to get away from him by less drastic measures. She hated to do it…but there had been no other way. The words she had murmured to him the last time she had seen him was her attempt at trying to make him understand. That through it all, even when what she was about to do would destroy him, she did love him. She had hoped that would be enough. That it would help him come to terms with her death.

It had all gone to shit now, of course, but that didn't change the way she felt.

All of this bubbled beneath the surface, wanting to come out. But now was not the time and she felt that the time may not come for a while. He had to heal, and so did she. It wouldn't surprise her if he distanced himself, refused to speak with her, or left her all together. That was what she would do, and they were the same in their ways of avoiding something they didn't want to deal with.

He was slightly ahead of her and raised his hand briefly as they entered a cross section of hallways. It was quiet, and they kept moving forward. The house was huge. It was a mansion situated in the middle of a mountain range that could only be accessed on foot or by air. Thousands of square feet, furnished lavishly, and plenty of staff and security. It was mostly self-sufficient with gardens and barns with varying types of livestock situated on the property. They only required some supplies to be delivered. It was nearly impenetrable, secret, and perfect.

"So my suggestion would be to make yourself comfortable. You would enjoy yourself more if you did," he had advised, and left her alone. Kirk had gone into great detail when she asked where she was. He was proud and vain, and she used it to her advantage. He wasn't stupid though, and never mentioned the actual location. From the coolness she felt on the windows and the ample blankets and warm clothes she was given, she was able to ascertain that they were in the north. Whether or not they were in the United States was another matter.

They couldn't comb the entire house. It would take too long. The wing she had been housed in was out of play, as she was certain he wouldn't keep Agnes so close. That just left the rest of the property.

A hand on his arm stopped him, and he turned to look at her.

"We can't search the whole house. It will take too long." He kept her gaze for only a few seconds before he looked away and shifted, causing her hand to be hovering in the air instead of in contact with his arm. Her gut twisted, but she pushed it down and feigned nonchalance.

"We aren't going to. Dembe and Baz have scouted the parts of the house and property they were able to. They acquired intel that there is a set of rooms situated next to the kitchens, with servants' rooms on the other side. The most activity happens there while the other areas of the house are quiet. Warmth, easy access to the kitchens, and servants close by make us think that Agnes is there. Logistically it makes sense. That's where we're headed. Dembe and Baz are waiting for us."

Liz stared at him, questions burning in her mind. It was also the first time he had spoken, and his silky, low tenor warmed her in a way she hadn't felt for a long time. She had missed his voice. She decided to keep him talking.

"How did you…how did you know where to find me? When to come?" she asked as they continued to move through the house.

He shot her an unreadable look, but answered her after a moment. "We didn't, not at first. There were enough guards stationed throughout the house that it was hard to tell. Initially with the activity by the kitchens, we thought both of you might be there. But there wasn't enough security to hold someone like you"—at this his mouth twitched upwards as if he wanted to smile— "so we had to reevaluate. It was purely by luck that we noticed the security shifting en-masse to a separate wing detached from the house. Except for a few guards over here, the house was empty. Process of elimination from there."

He fell silent as they reached a large parlor and worked together to clear it. Liz doubted it was ever used. Just another room to fuel Kirk's vanity.

"So you came. To get me out…even though I—" she cut off abruptly, avoiding his gaze as they moved. Liz could feel his eyes on her, but she didn't dare meet them.

"Yes. I wasn't going to leave you here with _him_ …" His voice dropped and took on a dangerous quality. He said no more, and Liz decided to keep the silence. Any more and they would get into territory that neither of them were able to deal with yet. Agnes was waiting.

The silence dragged out as they made their way to the other end. Liz doubted that he would say any more without prompting, so it surprised her when he asked a question of his own.

"The security shifting…did you know about it?"

"Yes. He hasn't had more than a guard or two on me for a while. He thought that I wasn't going to attempt anything. I wasn't, initially. But Agnes…" Her hands tightened on the gun, and she looked over at him. He had noticed and was watching warily. "He wouldn't let me see her. Kept her from me. I got tired of it."

He stopped abruptly and stared at her, fury blossoming on his face. After a moment he schooled his expression into something more neutral, but Liz could tell his fury was still there. Moving forward, she shifted the conversation to distract him. He scared her when he was like this.

"I noticed that on certain days he wouldn't come and see me. He would never tell me why. I thought he was just biding his time, but I noticed that the guards were more on alert than usual, and there was more communication going on between them. I sat by the door and was able to pick up on some of what they said. I figured out that he took up most of the security on those days. I still don't know why, but he was preoccupied. That's all that mattered."

She checked a darkened room that had been left open and moved on when she found it empty. Glancing over at Raymond curiously, she noticed he was deep in thought.

"So I took out the guard, grabbed his gun, and took off," she continued. "I hadn't really thought much beyond that." That admittance got her a raised brow, and she offered him a tentative smile in return.

They passed through another entry-way and stopped when voices could be heard not far off. This must be the final wing that they had to get through. Only several servants, guards, and other staff stood in the way of getting to Agnes. Easy-peasy.

"Dembe," Raymond said, and she watched his head tilt to the side as he listened to his com.

That simple gesture drew her attention, and she took that brief moment to study him. He was dressed smartly as always, but he had neglected to wear his coat, or his hat. Sleeves rolled up with his gun in hand, vest and pants tailored expertly…she hadn't just missed his voice, or his face. She had missed _him_ , and it was only then she realized how much. He had changed, though. Weight loss was obvious, and he carried himself more heavily than usual. The thought that his state was her fault forced her to look away. It was too much.

"They're in position."

With that, they swept into the room, guns raised.


End file.
